


James Knows

by phipiohsum475



Series: Logically [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional, Intimate Lovemaking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 14:04:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2624507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phipiohsum475/pseuds/phipiohsum475
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James and John come together in silent, beautiful, bliss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	James Knows

**Author's Note:**

> This is intimate and detailed, but not truly explicit. It is my attempt at demonstrating how love is expressed through sex. I hope I did okay :)
> 
> Not betaed nor britpicked. Feel free to (kindly!) point out my errors!

James knows, logically, that this might not last. This may be the final chance to touch and caress and hold John tight without ever letting go. And James plans to savor each moment of John’s body, John’s soul and John’s mind.

He lays John down reverently on the bed before him, and slowly unbuttons John’s shirt to reveal the white vest underneath. John’s muscular arms affect James like they always had, and James presses one last kiss to John’s rough lips, dipping in his tongue to brush against John’s, the delicate touch causing John to softly moan into James’ mouth. James moves, trailing kisses down his jaw, rough with stubble, his lack of shaving a clear sign of John’s distress. James intends to comfort John, release John of his tension, and bring John to the moment of clarity of which he is clearly searching.

James hopes, yearns, that the understanding John seeks will end at his doorstep, but James is realistic. John is still married, although clearly something devastating has occurred to bring John to this point. James know John’s loyalty; his unwavering sense of honor, and only the utmost betrayal would bring John here, craving James’ touch, but he doesn’t care. He’ll take John any way he can, even if it is only this once.

James slowly drags his fingertips down the rigid curves of John’s strength, his power evident underneath the softly tanned flesh. James lets the tip of his tongue outline the muscles of John’s biceps and with his fingers, begins to search for the sensitive nubs of John’s nipples, hidden beneath the vest. John arches up when James finds his target, and James refocuses his fingers to unbuckling John’s belt, as he moves his lips back to the pressure point of John’s neck, tenderly licking with a hint of teeth. Belt loosened, James unbuttons John’s trousers, and pulls back.

He looks into John’s eyes, and sees the man he loved years ago, and the man he still loves today. John may have been overshadowed by the detective, betrayed by his wife, but he is still James’ John, the coarse, slightly cruel, clever doctor, and brave soldier and James wants nothing more than to wrap himself around John and protect him from the pain of the world from which he is escaping.

John lifts his hips, and James removes his slacks, then separately his boxers, adjusting around the jutting form of John’s cock, hard from just the bare beginnings of James’ ministrations. John leans up, stripping himself of the final piece of clothing; that sculpting vest, and reaches to James to nip softly at his bottom lip, while unbuttoning the flannel adorning James and shrugging it off his shoulders. Then John drags James back as he falls onto the down duvet.

James catches himself with his arms, propped above John, and then lowers himself to John’s side. John is completely naked, and completely at home in James’ arms, like he had never left. And James keeps his focus on John’s mouth, the sensitive flesh of his neck, as he awkwardly loses his own slack and pants, and then, for the first time in at least five years, they lay, skin to skin, naked against one another.

-o-

James knows, logically, that he will top and John will bottom. In their years together, they’d tried switching, but in the end, they realized that in the safety and comfort and trust they’d built together, that John always preferred to receive, to be filled, to be broken apart, and James loved using his height and width to embrace John, to surround him and protect him. It relatively contrasted their non-sexual roles, James preferring domesticity and John functioning more as a provider, a powerhouse of stability, the wage earner. Honestly, the roles they shared were mixed and varied. James did the laundry and John made sure they arrived to appointments on time. James took out the trash, and John hung the artwork and rearranged furniture. They worked, complements, each catering to their skill set.

And in the bedroom, their complement was John, predominately submissive, James, gently dominating, embracing John, surrounding John, and worshipping him. And today, James fills his role admirably. He hovers over John, tonguing, nibbling, and caressing the firmness of his muscles, beautifully contrasted with the aging softness of his belly. And today, James decides that he’ll turn them both on their sides, holding John in tight embrace. He reaches for the lubricant that has been his masturbatory aid for years, and slickens his fingers, then streams a thin line between John’s welcoming cheeks, to rub against his eager, tight hole. James presses one finger in slowly, and they still haven’t said a single word, but right now, in this moment, no words are needed. James drags his fingers down the sensitive crack of John’s arse, and momentarily John tenses, but the sighs softly; and quivers underneath James’ attention.

James slips those slick fingers, one by one, into John’s arse, stretching the tightened sphincter; his thick fingers opening John up with expert, practiced precision. John whimpers, breaking the silence, but John can’t help himself. James always knew how to unravel John, diminish him into the most primal, unadulterated version of himself, and John is wise enough, in this moment, to let him.

-o-

James knows, logically, that this isn’t the first time they’ve been together. But as John’s back is pressed firmly against his chest, and the head of James’ cock nudges John’s hole, then slowly breeches the warm, well slicked interior of John’s body, it feels like the first time. The nervousness, the ecstasy of scorching heat, stretched tension, and the glorious knowledge that he’s allowed this; this closeness and intimacy with this man he loves to fullest extent, sends shivers down James’ spine. He forgets to move while lost in John’s pleasure, and it isn’t until John’s arm comes back, and wraps around James’ head, threading his fingers in James’ hair, and thrusts back against his cock, that James is brought back to the present.

He slips his right arm under John’s neck, and holds his chest, pressing them together, wishing, somehow, that they could be even further intertwined, interconnected, that they could somehow exist inside each other physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually all at the same time. And James instead just holds tighter, right arm pressing John into his chest, and left arm gripping John’s hip and he slowly pulls out, feeling John’s arse clamoring to drag him back, and he acquiesces, sliding in again, and again, and angling slightly, that perfect spot he remembers. John gasps, and James smiles, and with continued, slow control, he slides across the internal swell of John’s prostate, and John pants and keens and his fingers tighten in James hair, and tries to push back harder, and faster and James knows better.

John thinks he needs an angry, fast, furious fuck, and James knows it will do nothing aside from leaving John with an itch of irritation under his skin; he will lash out, and he will destroy himself and everything around him, until James quells the rush of fury with exactly what he is doing now. James learned early on to skip the aggression and force John to enjoy the tenderness of their union, the anticipation, the slow build until they both tumble together into the waves of bliss.

James continues his lingering, deep plunges into John, the slow, sensual drags back out. He smoothly adds more lubricant, to keep the slick slide as comfortable as possible for both the them. Several times, he withdrawals completely, and eases his way back, savoring the stretch of John as he opens again and again to encompass him. Finally, John drops his arm, untangling his fingers from James’ hair, no longer trying to instigate something furious, and instead, laces his fingers with James’ left hand at his hip, and his right arm comes up to James’ and hugs it tight to his chest. John acquiesces to the deliberate pace, and they shift, gently undulating against each other, keeping their motions leisurely, as the pleasure begins to build, the tension gradually rising.

Neither has spoken, but their gasps, pants, and groans echo loudly in their ears, a language all their own. James nor John have found other lovers who speak the same dialect of passion, fervor, or intimacy, and to share this interpretation of the adoration and love again after all these years wells a tide of emotion in James that he struggles to contain.

And together, guided by their vocalizations, they both realize how close the other is to falling into the abyss. James grips John tighter, their hands holding each other with desperation. As though they are falling off a cliff, and only their grip, their embrace will save them. And in essence, this is true. John tumbles first; gasping out his pleasure, the climax exploding from him, the sensation of this unhurried lovemaking sending emotion and delight through every nerve, an explosion of sentimental sensation in his brain, and he shatters into pieces in James’ arms.

James falls almost immediately after, pulsing thickly into John, relishing the symbolic merger of their bodies, the way a part of James is buried deep inside John, even once James slides from John’s body. They both stay in their deep embrace, John wanting every bit of James to fuse with his own cells. James moves the hand on John’s hip to his face, tilting to allow James access to John’s lips, and he sees the wet streaks down John’s cheeks. James kisses the wet drops, tasting the salty release of John’s torment, and he then caresses John’s lips with his own in a compassionate press.

The tears tell James that he has given John what he requires; the emotional breakthrough that accompanies subtle ecstasy. Whether John was aware of his needs when he placed that first soft touch to James’ neck, James isn’t sure, but he knows John and knows how raw and vulnerable John needs to be before being able to reconstruct his turmoil, and regain control of his life.

They lay there, together, for how long, James isn’t sure, but it doesn’t matter.

-o-

James knows, logically, that he shouldn’t ask. That he will be rejected. That it will hurt. But it doesn’t matter, because the glorious potential of success outweighs the overwhelming likelihood of failure. He kisses John one last time, before speaking aloud for the first time in the hours they’ve been together.

“Stay.”

John freezes beneath him, and James’ heart drops. John strokes the arm holding his chest, threading his fingers through the course blond hair. He clears his throat, trying to silence the catch in his voice, and whispers in a loving tone.

“Okay.”


End file.
